


Directionless in Droneland

by comradeocean



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, British Politics, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Pairings to be added, Zayn-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comradeocean/pseuds/comradeocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So when the recruitment officer handed him a form for <i>Systems Tester Needed Immediately No Experience Necessary Foreign Language Knowledge An Asset</i>, Zayn didn't think twice; just filled it in like all the other forms. The languages section seemed long and intimidating. To make himself feel better he scrawled "Urdu and Arabic" with an extra flourish, then paused and added Pashto for good measure. He was sure two or three of his great aunts spoke it and isn't there a genetic component to language acquisition or something? It's not like anyone would care or know the difference. </p>
<p>As it turned out, he was only partially right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Directionless in Droneland

Because Ant almost got arrested. Because Danny then did get arrested, and not even for anything he did. Because the idiots on the radio were going on and on about benefit scroungers and he couldn't even catch his breath properly never mind changing the station. Because his father was the one driving him to the jobcentre and the one who finally took pity on him and flicked the damn thing off. Because the car broke down a week later and his mother missed a shift at work when the bus was late and how could he complain about feeling like a spotty third former again, having to ride his bike everywhere, when she almost lost her job. 

So when the recruitment officer handed him a form for Systems Tester Needed Immediately No Experience Necessary Foreign Language Knowledge An Asset, Zayn didn't think twice; just filled it in like all the other forms. The languages section seemed long and intimidating. To make himself feel better he scrawled "Urdu and Arabic" with an extra flourish, then paused and added Pashto for good measure. He was sure two or three of his great aunts spoke it and isn't there a genetic component to language acquisition or something? It's not like anyone would care or know the difference. 

As it turned out, he was only partially right.

\-----

The first rounds of interviews weren't call-backs so much as sitting for a series of mass examinations. An entire gymnasium's worth of candidates, all penned together in columns of tightly crammed desks, filed out before his time slot and just as many filled the room again after him. Zayn liked exams. Zayn was good at exams. (And not much else, as the usual bitter addendum goes.) 

It's different from A-Levels though, all that expectant suspense, waiting to bring about a future, some future to be hopeful about. And he had resolved never to think about those uni exams ever again, especially not that Michaelmas term when he'd ducked out for his customary cigarette break, and instead of smoking, flicked his lighter on and off on and off on and off, as he contemplated death by immolation in the second floor toilets of St. Anne's. The sleeve of his robe was already lit too, by the time he considered what a burnt up mess his hair would be afterwards when it was all over. That thought was what shook him out of the trance and returned him to the examination room - singed and soggy, but still alive, with resignation.

Here, minus the pressure cooker of having to exist alongside people who'd attended public schools all their lives and who went skiing every other weekend in Switzerland, minus the adolescent fervour borne of late nights and energy drinks, minus the hope, it was all d-words. Dreary, desperate, distracted, despondent, on the dole. Zayn continued with his cigarette tradition though - no smoking the day before, walk in with a fag tucked behind his year, beg off to use the toilet exactly midway in, come back stinking with a smirk plastered on his face that dares the invigilator to tell him off. No one ever did. 

\--

The one time afterwards when someone had come up to visit, Zayn had taken him - Aiden, he was pretty sure it was Aiden, Aiden had always been the nicest of the bunch - to the pub down the street and made an effort to play host, even called up Danny, Ant, the others, to have someone from his other life to introduce. But it didn't make a fucking difference because Aiden had refused to let him or anyone else buy a single drink. Zayn got more and more drunk through the night, and more and more angry, until the shit pub music and his shit life resolved to an unmitigated ocean of shit, a dull howling ocean of static that throbbed under his eyelids bounced all around the room dove inside his head out his mouth out Aiden's mouth until he dragged Aiden by the collar of his jacket outside. Where it was quiet. And cold. And he might have shoved Aiden against the broke down bricks, might have held him in place at the neck, might have been shouting something, might have only let go because he didn't have enough breath for shouting and tears and maintaining a chokehold on a flailing six foot man all at the same time. 

They were both crying. "Mate, Zayn, Mate. The money, yeah? It's not even mine. It's meant to be yours."  
"What the fuck are you on about?"  
Aiden had gestured towards the ear, and the phantom cigarette. "We all thought you were proper hard. We had a collection going." Zayn flinched and Aiden quickly amended himself. "We had a bet, we had a bet going. About your smoking habit. And I won."  
"And you won."  
"A bet about when you would be kicked out of an exam -"  
"And you won."  
" - and you never were."  
"And you won."  
"And I won."

Zayn had laughed and laughed, giggles and hiccups that eventually turned again into messy sobs until Aiden was the one propping him up. "Was it enough to pay for the drinks?" and Aiden was rolling his eyes because they both knew what kind of people they were talking about, what kind of money they had. "Enough to pay for the drinks, and then some. The drinks, your trip up, and then some?"

Aiden wrapped his arms tight around Zayn so that he could whisper back directly into that ear, close and sad, "And then some."

They stayed in that hug for a while - slow, close, and sad, because Zayn had known then that an entire chunk of his life was closed away for good, in a way that no one left around him can understand, and Aiden was kind enough not to comment on it in any way other than gently pressing his lips against Zayn's temple. 

Aiden said some other things too, and then the usual. "Take care of yourself, see you around." And Zayn said the usual things back, "You too, I'll give you a call." 

\--

So yeah, just like always, he walked out of that gym filled with all the other depressed jobseekers, the spongers, the chronically workshy, the whatever new euphemisms of the day they've come up with for his lot. He smoked his cigarette. He arranged his face in a presentation of cockiness he didn't even pretend to feel. Just like always, they let him back in, and on that mark alone Zayn was pretty sure he aced whatever it was they were testing him for.

It was the little things that kept him going.

**Author's Note:**

> eeeek! un-beta'd, not britpicked, not sure about tenses, my first time attempting multi-chapters, first RPF. Help?!
> 
> (sorta kinda have pairings planned. sorta kinda have an outline - one that consists of random words and sentence fragments.)


End file.
